


Mending

by JudeAraya



Category: Glee
Genre: Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, handjobish, light come play, mentions of assault, reaction fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-20 00:03:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1489207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudeAraya/pseuds/JudeAraya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kurt has a feeling of untethering, of a weight in his chest he’s been holding back and holding in. It’s strange and almost too much and Blaine next to him is a safe, warm place he wants to lose himself in”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mending

**Author's Note:**

> Bash reaction fic, so mentions of assault. Thanks to lurkdusoleil and gingerandfair for beta work, guidance and listening ears.

There’s a certain comfort in Blaine’s nearness, in the constance of their intrinsic gravity, even when Kurt doesn’t have anything to give. There’s a certainty in Blaine’s faith that Kurt isn’t too far away, that knows that Kurt will let him in when he’s ready. It feels like the space he needs. In the days after he’s released from the hospital, armor and a steel spine are what Kurt needs, a skin he’s known how to put on since high school. The space though —  the space that feels like a cushion around him, the familiar hold of solitude, of not having hands on his body he hasn’t invited — for a while, it’s what he needs. They both know too, that when Kurt is ready, Blaine will be the first to know. So even when it seems like Blaine is never more than a few feet away, Kurt doesn’t feel pressured.

Blaine sleeps on the floor the first few nights he’s home, despite Kurt’s insistence that it’s not necessary. He doesn’t want to be jostled or touched really, but he does try to convince Blaine to sleep on the sofa.

“You can bring me my pills from over there just as well Blaine,” Kurt says. Oddly enough, Blaine’s response isn’t just a small smile, but a fleeting touch down the side of Kurt’s nose. He leaves and comes back with water and more pills.  Kurt doesn’t press the issue. He knows he must balance his need for space with Blaine’s need to touch and be close.

He wakes one night for no reason. There’s never a sense of total darkness in their loft, but it’s enough. Enough that Kurt opens his eyes and wakes throbbing into his skin and suddenly all the air around him is too big, and he’s too small. It’s not fear that wakes him. It’s processing, it’s letting himself feel it, really feel it for the first time.

“Blaine?” he whispers. There’s the rustle of soft cotton and hard floor and Blaine’s voice croaky with sleep.

“I’m here,” Blaine kneels by the bed, “do you need something? Water? Are you in pain, it’s only been-”

“No,” Kurt says. His hand opens and closes and he can feel the bowl his palm makes, curled on the pillow beside his head, “no pain. Just-” he swallows and breathes and is rewarded by Blaine’s smell.

“Kurt?” Blaine shifts and Kurt feels the mattress dip as Blaine sits carefully on the edge. His bedside light flicks on. Blaine’s finger is warm where it slides around the edge of Kurt’s ear.

“Lie down?” Kurt licks dry his lips carefully, mindful of the cut.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Blaine says.

“You won’t,” Kurt says softly.

“Okay.” Blaine turns the light back off and lays down, gently and slowly, mindful of Kurt’s body and entirely too far away.

The dark pushes against him, presses against his eyes and his skin and it’s too easy to remember the firework of pain and the grit of asphalt and what he needs to hold against it isn’t space now, but something soft and careful.

“Blaine,” he whispers again. Blaine makes a faint noise and turns onto his side. Kurt imagines he can feel the warmth of his breath. “Will you hold my hand?”

~*~

Kurt knows he’s continued to be withdrawn, that he’s pulled in; he knows he’s just mending, resurfacing tough skin. He wants it that way, wants it against bright lights and so many people on the street and in school and the subway and even at home with Rachel and Santana and the constant cycle of friends in and out.

But he doesn’t want it with Blaine.

He feels Blaine’s need; it’s not  _needy_  exactly, but there’s a palpable feeling when Blaine is near, the line between his desire to be close and his desire to respect Kurt’s need for space that pulls something taut between them.

At least he’s convinced Blaine to sleep in the bed with him by now. Kurt falls asleep wanting to get closer, knowing the only thing he could bear so near to him now is Blaine. But Blaine is careful and they don’t talk about it, so it stays. Sometimes, when he’s lucky, he wakes to Blaine’s face carefully pressed to his bicep, or his hand wide and heavy on his stomach.

~*~

Kurt watches the ceiling carefully. Blaine is reading dutifully, highlighting a text and sighing adorably every now and then. Kurt’s cheek is still tender — too tender for him to lay on his side like he normally would. Something bothersome is nagging, itching under his skin, and has been all night. He hasn’t wanted to read and can’t bear the thought of studying. TV feels too harsh and invasive and bright and all he really wants is to curl around Blaine, to feel the give of Blaine’s belly under his face and the pads of Blaine’s fingers through his hair and the hot electric of his skin and  _oh_ -

Kurt has a feeling of untethering, of a weight in his chest he’s been holding back and holding in. It’s strange and almost too much and Blaine next to him is a safe, warm place he wants to lose himself in. It’s the start of feeling ready to unmantle his armor. At least he does here, in the safe retreat of this bed and Blaine like home next to him.

He turns his head a little and there’s Blaine’s thigh, the smooth bulge of it in his ridiculous sleep boxers. Kurt thinks of the nights since he’s been home, of the nights when Blaine’s hand hasn’t left his until their skin is damp and his fingers a little cramped and his heart feels a little tight with love and craving.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, running the back of his hand up Blaine’s calf carefully.

“Hm?” Blaine smiles down at him. Kurt tucks his index finger into the fold of his knee where it bends; predictably, Blaine twitches, ticklish and sensitive.

“Blaine can I touch you?” Kurt wishes Blaine would lie down because he’s getting in impressive crick in his neck trying to see him like this. He wraps his hand around Blaine’s calf muscle; it’s strong but also small in his wide hands and somehow, it feels safe like that, like the world is right footed now and here there’s nothing but their bodies fitting in so many little ways.

“You kind of are,” Blaine says with a little laugh. He closes his book and sets it aside, then lays on his side next to him. “Better?” Blaine touches Kurt’s neck, digging his fingers into the muscles at the tops of his shoulders.

“Yes.” Kurt closes his eyes and concentrates on Blaine’s kneading fingers, but they’re gone too soon.

“You ready to sleep?” Blaine asks, propping himself up to turn off the light.

“No! No, come-” Kurt tugs on Blaine’s tank top, “come back here.”

“Kurt,” Blaine follows the insistence of his pulling, shifting a bit closer; close enough to trap Kurt’s hand between their bodies. He reaches over, a little awkwardly, without rolling over, and skims his fingers under Blaine’s shirt, thumbing over his hip and then his ribs and soaking in the expansion of sharp breath Blaine takes. “Kurt what are you-?”

“Don’t you miss…” Kurt lets the question hang unfinished, spreading his palm over Blaine’s hip and down his thigh, He tries to tug Blaine closer with a hand spanned around him, pleased when Blaine acquiesces. Kurt wiggles around until his trapped hand is free, and brings it up to Blaine’s face, pressing his thumb to Blaine’s full lips.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathes out helplessly. His mouth opens a little, Kurt can feel his tongue brush the pad of his finger in a light taste. Against his hip he can feel Blaine getting hard. “This isn’t- I- you’re healing.”

“I am,” Kurt says simply, looking from Blaine’s mouth into his eyes, feeling struck by their bright copper and the sin of his lashes framing them. “Blaine- they beat me for this. Because they think it’s  _wrong_.” He puts a too hot hand on Blaine’s cheek. “This is  _right_  Blaine. Let’s make something right.”

Blaine closes his eyes and takes a long slow breath. Opens them and leans in to kiss Kurt’s face, kisses like pattering, warm raindrops, fast over every uninjured part of Kurt’s face, and then so so tenderly, his lips. Kurt sneaks his tongue out, lets it trace the heavy, full bottom lip and squirms restlessly when he’s answered by a small bite.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, then closes his eyes and takes a shaking breath, letting himself fall open for Blaine, and for himself, “I need you right now.”

“What do you want?” Blaine asks, voice shaking a little.  “I don’t-”

Blaine’s hands hover over him when Kurt opens his eyes, lids heavy and skin thin greedy for Blaine’s touch.

“You won’t hurt me,” Kurt interrupts. “I know. I won’t let you.”

“Okay,” Blaine says. He settles his hand on Kurt’s hip again, pushing the elastic band down a little so his thumb can mark the crescent rise of hipbone. “Whatever you want, honey.”

“Take off your clothes, please,” Kurt commands quietly. Blaine’s skin catches the yellow light and it’s beautiful and heartbreaking because Kurt knows so immediately now how tender everything under that skin is. 

“And yours,” Blaine starts to push Kurt’s shirt off once he’s naked.

“Not yet,” he shakes his head gently. “Climb on me, across my lap. I want to see you.”

Blaine hesitates and Kurt laughs a little impatiently. “Just trust me Blaine.”

Blaine smiles around a bitten lip, then climbs carefully to straddle him, keeping his weight up. He’s not hard, the soft hang of his cock nestled in the barely there dark of pubic hair, balls pendulous, cradling it. He catches a glimmer of embarrassment in Blaine’s body and face.

“I love this, love you like this,” he murmurs. He ghosts a finger up the length of him, watches the starting stir of arousal. “Blaine.” Kurt can’t take his eyes away, but the angle is a little uncomfortable for what he wants. He struggles up on his elbows. “Help me out?”

Together he and Blaine manage to situate a pillow behind him so that he’s propped up a little at a better angle. They both laugh a little nervously when Blaine settles back down. He meets Blaine’s eyes again, thinks of what it feels like to kiss those eyelids, eyelashes against his lips. He runs his palms up Blaine’s thighs.

“Will you touch yourself?” Kurt asks.

Blaine tilts his head, eyes questions but darkening. Kurt’s thumbs skim the creases of his groin, featherlight touching his balls.

“If that’s what you want,” Blaine says, a little breathless and a little coy. He retrieves their lube and settles carefully over him.

“Down,” Kurt encourages, pressing on his hips. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Hmm,” Blaine starts touching himself with his other hand, still mostly soft but coming to life under his fingers. He’s wrapped his other hand around his own neck, eyes burnt honey and searing.

Kurt touches and touches him, everywhere but his cock, softly and reverently. Blaine’s pebbled nipples are lovely textured, as is the soft stubble just under his belly button where he’s due for another wax soon. The sweet soft give of his belly and the strong line of his thighs. Blaine shifts subtly, fucking into his fist a little. Kurt watches and watches, the way Blaine’s forearm flexes and the purpling red of his dick at the head, beaded precome glittering a little when it catches the light. Kurt runs his hand up Blaine’s arm.

“Yes,” he whispers, feeling short breathed and a little overwhelmed. Blaine is so beautiful, so lovely and  _his_. Kurt doesn’t mind how he holds himself together, the steel of his armor and resolve during the day, but there’s something that’s complete and home and safe when he can take it off and just be with Blaine, be vulnerable, love and tenderness and connection with Blaine everything he needs. Everything Blaine needs too, he knows. Knows that sometimes his reserve is hard for Blaine too.

They’re both learning, navigating, and Kurt doesn’t know how well he manages to balance what he needs and what Blaine needs from him but this — being with Blaine like this — is so much more than sex. Even when they’re fucking, breathless and rough or rushed and laughing — this is the closest he feels to Blaine, the softening and exposed, unanchoring himself but knowing that Blaine would never let him drift too far.

“Kurt,” Blaine gasps, “ _fuck_ , oh god. Shirt, off.” He uses his free hand to push Kurt’s t-shirt up farther, thumbing at the defined line between his abs. Kurt arches, rubbing his cock against the full swell of Blaine’s ass. His pants between them are both too much and not enough, but he doesn’t want to take even a second from this to take them off.

“Come on me,” Kurt says, not bothering with his shirt, but pressing Blaine’s hand against his pounding heart. He grinds and swivels his hips and watches Blaine flush, face starting to sheen with sweat. Blaine’s really fucking into his fist now, lips parted around each ragged breath. His eyes are heavy with pleasure and Kurt can tell by the tensing of his belly and arms how close he is. He skims his free hand up the hot skin of Blaine’s working thigh, so so carefully along his groin and then with barely a touch, the head of his leaking cock, just a tease of a touch, but it’s obviously enough because Blaine comes then, head falling back as he groans and twitches through it, pearlescent strings of come shooting warm across Kurt’s stomach and chest. Kurt watches the pulse and release and the gorgeous marking of come all over him. He moans Blaine’s name in a broken whisper, grabbing Blaine by the hips bruising hard, rubbing against him fast and dirty and aching, arching up into the crack of Blaine’s ass and comes too, wet and thick inside his pants.

“Oh-” Kurt says quietly when it’s over, closing his eyes and holding Blaine’s hips carefully, feeling how small and steady his body is.

“Kurt,” Blaine leans over, tucks his forehead into Kurt’s neck. Kurt can feel the damp of sweat and the heat coming off of him. Blaine’s hand is still over Kurt’s heart, and when he slides his hands up Blaine’s back, he can feel the heave of his breath as he comes down. “ _Kurt_.” Blaine says, so quietly it’s more of a breath between his lips and Kurt’s skin. There’s nothing more to say, just the immeasurable safety of Blaine’s body, wrapped in Kurt’s arms now, heavy and grounding and a closeness that’s mending.


End file.
